


In Giving of Ourselves

by Jadynof9



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: As Canon Compliant As I Can Manage, Book: Star Trek: Picard: The Last Best Hope - Una McCormack, Bullying, Character Study, Childhood Memories, Coming of Age, Discrimination, Is It Canon-Divergence If There's No Canon Yet?, Multi, Origin Story, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Qowat Milat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26965033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadynof9/pseuds/Jadynof9
Summary: Elnor is missing a tradition that had been a central part of his life growing up. The crew offer to help him continue that tradition, even though he is no longer with the sisters on Vashti.No one is prepared for the impact this will have on them.
Relationships: Agnes Jurati/Cristobal Rios (background), Elnor & Zani (Star Trek), Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine (background)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 21





	1. Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been sitting on this idea for quite a while now, and as with nearly all fic project, real life made it difficult to get to. When I finally started writing however, I psyched myself out: this is going to be a _long_ project, and as I was outlining it I started to question whether or not I could pull it off. Suddenly I was working on it less and less.
> 
> Today I kicked myself in the butt and said _just do it already!_
> 
> So you have been forewarned. I am not certain exactly how long this will end up. Tags and rating will be updated as needed. Thank you in advance for you patience. And now, on with the show!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first love in Picard is Raffi/Seven. A very, very, _very_ close second is Elnor. While I very strongly hope they give us more on his backstory – and in turn the Qowat Milat – I can’t help but play with what nuggets are already there. You can’t be an orphan, raised in a community you can never fully be a part of, who is so incredibly innocent while also being a highly effective killing machine, and NOT be an incredibly complex character.
> 
> Welcome, then, to my exploration of Elnor <3

Stillness. Never was there truly silence where life could thrive. Whether an entity could hear it or not, existence brings about activity: a heart beating, a breath traveling, a synapse firing. As the organism becomes more complex, these simpler, most essential sounds lose their distinctiveness in the moment-by-moment journey of existence. They continue, yet one is not aware of them. Because now one must listen for danger, for sustenance, for other, for _survival_. Eventually, these, too, become drowned out as evolution progresses. Safety creates a freedom to sense that which is non-essential to existence yet most enriching, some might declare essential to fulfillment. Artistry, beauty, celebration, creation, what higher forms describe as _life being lived_. A life that depends upon those building blocks that provided the necessary foundation. Basic components that life’s most primitive centers are still hard-wired to recognize. Instincts that still exist in harsher climates, where they are more necessary for survival. Elements that lifeforms only seem to become keenly aware of when they are at risk of ceasing to exist.

In the stillness of meditation, the young warrior contemplates these realities. Eyes closed, mindful of his surroundings, of his own inner life, to a degree that only occurs with years of practice. The steady, rested rhythm of his heart, source of life and vigor. Source of strength. Source of pain. With each beat he recalls the many journeys it has brought him through. With each breath, slow and measured, he feeds his life’s blood with the air it needs. Relaxing into the hum that is the ambient pulse of _La Sirena_ all around him, he can almost feel the thrumming of his own body’s systems. It is in this precious homeostasis that Elnor gives thanks, that he reflects on the many innumerable beats and breaths that have brought him to this moment. In this moment does he start each day with intention, with conviction, with drive to carry out the rule that raised him, nurtured him, and continues to carry him to the fullness of who he is to become.

One final exhale, deliberate and tired, and Elnor returns to the present. His morning rituals have not left him revitalized, though he is not surprised. A deep sigh allows him to shrug off the whispers of memories as he changes into is normal robes, preparing to meet the day. He has the story rehearsed in his mind; after all, he knew he would not withhold the melancholy from his expression, even if he were so inclined to eschew Absolute Candor in an attempt to keep from causing concern. The only question that remained was who would question him first.

Exiting his quarters, he made his way toward the stairs to the mess. He noticed Seven was leaving the bridge, having just been relieved from night watch. Seven gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement as they passed each other, Elnor offering a genuine smile in reply. Each member of the crew had come to mean something to him, each in their own unique way. The Ranger, however, would always hold a special seat of respect and affection. In many ways, she reminded him most of family.

The thought brought with it another wave of wistful longing as he descended to the mess. Requesting a simple cup of jasmine tea from the replicator, he sat and breathed in the calming steam, knowing he would have the first several minutes of his day to himself. With the exception of Seven, few of the crew appeared to function very well in the early part of the day shift. Even Soji and Picard, neither of whom actually needed sleep in their synthetic states, seemed more recalcitrant upon waking until consuming their preferred morning beverage. Elnor had originally tried Picard’s preferred tea, but did not find the potent flavor of bergamot to his liking. He enjoyed the subtler flavor of the jasmine tea, suggested to him by Seven after she had seen his initial, and powerful, reaction to the earl grey.

And so he sipped, and waited. Agnes was the first to emerge, yawning and stretching before grumbling a barely comprehensible request for coffee to the replicator. Nearly grabbing the handle of the mug before it had completely materialized, she was already consuming the liquid as she approached the table to sit with him. She offered the barest nod in greeting and Elnor reciprocated, marveling as always at the humans’ ability to somehow navigate the space around them without seeming fully conscious. It was somewhat like his ability to be aware of the space around him and how to control the movements of his body within that space. And yet also entirely unlike it, as he heard Soji groggily bump into the other table on her single-minded approach to the replicator. This was even more fascinating coming from a synth. When Soji finally joined them, she gave a drowsy, questioning look at Agnes.

“You look like you are thinking way too hard first thing in the morning,” she remarked, voice mildly raspy from waking.

“Something is wrong with Elnor,” came the pointed, if somewhat monotone, response. “He always greets me before I’m fully awake. He hasn’t said one word yet.” Elnor blushed slightly, chastising himself for allowing his preoccupations to interfere with his behaviors. He was about to apologize when an unexpected voice interrupted.

“Forgive me, Dr. Jurati, but if ‘fully awake’ is your criteria, then I dare say Elnor still has time to greet you.”

Soji snorted quietly into her coffee at Picard’s quip. Agnes, obviously not fully awake and therefore relatively uninhibited, fired a scathing glare at the retired admiral, receiving a boyish grin of mischief in response as he moved to join them.

“I _am_ preoccupied,” Elnor contributed, not wishing Agnes to receive too much teasing because of his actions – or in this case lack thereof. “I am saddened that I am missing a tradition from back home.” He paused, his voice cracking slightly. His throat had tightened as the intensity of the emotion surged, now that he was lending it voice. The tables’ occupants were now fully focused on him, concern and sympathy in varying measures evident on their faces.

“Would it help to tell us about it?” Soji offered tentatively. Elnor caught hesitance in her voice and felt somewhat guilty. Discussions of folklore and culture in general brought Soji joy and life, he had learned. When the discussion turned to more personal accounts of memories and traditions, the weight of her continued struggle to reconcile her remembered past with her actual past became evident. He had not meant to cause her pain.

“It is called _heieuwe_ ,” he began hesitantly, wistful longing evident in his voice.

“I remember this term,” Picard offered reflectively, chasing the details of the memory down. “Yes! It wasn’t long after the Qowat Milat had helped with the first round of refugees after their own arrival on Vashti. I had attempted to contact Zani to discuss specifics of the schedule and was told in no uncertain terms that Zani would be unavailable for the next two days.” Elnor smiled brightly at the memory.

“Zani was the Speaker of Truth that year. When you are the Speaker, that becomes your only role for the duration of _heieuwe_.” Reverence filled Elnor’s tone as he recalled the lessons he’d learned so long ago, Zani impressing upon him the importance of respecting their history. “It is a time of great reflection in which the Qowat Milat recall the story of their founding. It is the Speaker’s responsibility to impart the history through the telling of their own story, connecting the tale of the Foundress with the life of the Speaker.”

“Wait, but I’ve heard you talk about how much Zani helped you and Raffi with the refugees,” Agnes commented, gesturing to Picard. “You’re saying she just…put that on hold? For story-time?”

“It is not mere story-telling!” Elnor rebutted quickly, startling the scientist. A hand rested on his shoulder gently, causing him to close his eyes as he anchored himself in the sensation. After a deep breath, he turned and opened his eyes to see Soji’s soft gaze upon him.

“ _Heieuwe_ is how the sisters preserve their culture,” he proceeded, calmer. “It is not only learning the history of the order, but seeing how it is lived out. That is why the Speaker weaves their own life into the telling, to show how the precepts are integrated from simple knowledge to active living.”

“That is a responsibility that Zani would not have taken lightly,” Picard responded, a look of understanding crossing his features. “It had seemed very odd back then, but know this now…”

“How, um…how does it all work, exactly?” Agnes asked shyly, clearly fearing another misstep. Elnor gave her an apologetic look before answering.

“The older sisters continue the work of the house, those who have lived multiple _heieuwe_ and those who know the Speaker’s life well. This allows the younger sisters and those still in training the opportunity to engage fully.” Elnor’s eyes became unfocused as he remembered. He had not always appreciated the experience for the gift it was, as was to be expected during those younger years. Years when formation was a chore and requirement, before it transitioned into a way of being. It had only been in the most recent year or two that he began to glean wisdom and understanding from _heieuwe_ , to begin looking forward to those two days. And now…

“Can we bring you back to Vashti?” He looked to Soji, reading concern in her eyes as she gently rubbed his back. With a blink he felt a tear escape, surprising him. He shook his head, smiling sadly.

“I do not believe we would arrive in time. The preparations would nearly be complete now, and it is improper to join once the Speaker begins.”

Silence descended upon the group. Elnor felt guilt returning. He had wanted to be open with his friends, to be honest about his sadness. Bringing down the mood for everyone had _not_ been the intended result. He took another drink of his cooling tea as he gathered his thoughts, wanting to dispel the dreary atmosphere.

“Well…could we do it here?” Agnes offered. Elnor simply blinked at her, jaw dropping slightly. Soji perked up.

“You could be the Speaker, we could all sit with you in shifts! That would actually pretty cool, honestly.” The young synth’s eyes began to sparkle, realizing what an opportunity had presented itself. The interview with Ramhda, despite turning into a nightmare, had been a patiently awaited treat; this would be an unexpected treasure trove.

Agnes reached her hand toward Elnor, both excited and eager to make up for her earlier upsetting of the young man. “You said there were preparations…what would we need to do to make this happen?”

Overwhelmed, Elnor stood quickly, backing away from the table. He shook his head somewhat frantically. Him? Speaker? He was nowhere near ready. He was too young. He was too inexperienced. _He wasn’t even Qowat Milat._

“I could not,” he finally spoke shakily, both fear and shame cradling his words. “I’m not worthy of such a role. I’m not _able_ to fill that role. I’m…I’m not one of the sisters.” Eyes tightly shut, more tears escaped from their confines. He wanted to do it. It would fill him with joy to share the history with them, and he knew it. He also knew it would _not be right_.

“Elnor,” he heard Picard’s voice call tenderly. “I know that the rules state you can never be Qowat Milat.” Elnor flinched, hearing the truth spoken aloud striking him through the heart. “I also know from Zani that the rules had stated no males were allowed in the houses of Qowat Milat. Yet Zani chose to break that rule, because to follow it would have been a greater mistake. A sin against charity, if you will.” Elnor considered these words. They sounded very much like Zani, and he knew Picard would not lie to him about such matters. He opened his eyes to find Picard standing near him, looking at him with a warm smile.

“Perhaps sharing with us the story of the family that raised you could be considered an act of charity, hm? If it makes you more comfortable, you would not have to actually be the Speaker of Truth…but just one who loves the sisters that raised you, and wishes to honor them by sharing their story, their tradition, with us.”

Speechless, Elnor simply stared at Picard. Could he really consider this possibility? Would it be deception, dishonest? A mere play on words so that he could have what he desired? Turning to look at Soji and Agnes, he found sincere, almost child-like delight in their expressions. Their desire pulled at his heart. Could it really be so bad to offer them this? Despite the reality he would be benefitting from it as well?

With that thought, he recalled a distant memory, a nearly forgotten conversation with Zani when he was very young, not long before meeting Picard and Raffi for the first time. She had offered him a choice then, not dissimilar from the one he felt he had to make now. And in recalling that memory, the telling began in his mind.

“I…I will share with you the necessary preparations.” His voice was soft, quiet but certain. Picard clapped him affectionately on the shoulder, guiding him to sit back down as the women began to pepper him with questions. Elnor realized he would need another period of meditation following this conversation, just to calm his nerves, much less properly prepare for the task he was to undertake.

Nonetheless, he smiled, with all his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The table has been set! Please have patience with me as I prepare each course! <3
> 
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated!


	2. Heieuwe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The preparations begin! The crew settles in for a rare opportunity to experience Romulan culture, while Elnor readies himself to for a journey he never thought he'd make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the world certainly has been insane lately, hasn’t it?
> 
> With this chapter, the stage is fully set to get into the real deep diving. Sorry it took so long to get even this far! Hopefully things in real life will settle down a little more and making writing a little easier to get to. <3

“Run this by me again. The kid is going to be running through the history of warrior nuns while the rest of us take turns listening to the history of warrior nuns, as passed on by several generations of warrior nuns?” Rios asked with only mild cynicism in his voice, earning him an eyeroll.

“Eloquent as always, Cris,” Raffi responded. “Come on, this is a big deal for Elnor. We’re just trying to make sure everyone has a chance to take part.” Rio wagged a finger at her, not missing the sweet-as-honey tone that was creeping into her voice.

“Just because you are fascinated by that obscure fragment of Romulan culture doesn’t mean the rest of us dive the rabbit hole with you. In case you have forgotten, this is still a functioning ship. In the middle of a shipping run. With things that need to be done, Raff,” he challenged. Unfortunately, Raffi’s eyes lit up brighter, hands clasped together and gesturing toward him excitedly.

“That’s the beauty of it, it’s already worked into the ritual!” This time Rios rolled his eyes, though Raffi was entirely unaffected. “Everyone else has already agreed to rotate and take care of any of the responsibilities and chores Elnor would typically do over the next couple days. If we need an extra hand, the holos can pick up the slack.” Bright hazel eyes bore into the captain’s guarded brown. It was hard for him to begrudge his old friend looking so happy, genuinely happy, regarding anything Romulan after so many years of haunted shadows. With a groan, he rubbed his forehead, giving himself an opportunity to shield his eyes; he already knew he had given in, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least look like he was putting up a fight.

With a dramatic sigh, he waved her off, not looking back up. Grinning victoriously, Raffi turned to type in a few last commands before vacating her post to check-in with Elnor and the others. She gave Rios’ shoulder as squeeze as she passed, getting a brief grunt in response. Listening to her fading footsteps, he allowed half a grin to slip into place. He’d handled runs like this solo before; even having one less set of the current hands available would still be more than adequate given what he’d been used to.

“Suppose it couldn’t hurt to humor the kid,” he mumbled to no one in particular as he shifted to a more relaxed position in his seat before opening up his book, pondering the history of dead men as told by a dead man who waxed philosophic on the meaning of the lives of dead men. His half grin grew to a fully self-deprecating smile as he shook his head.

_-~-_

Elnor desperately sought the stillness. It eluded him as the time drew nearer for him to take on a role he had believed he would never receive. True, it was not _actually_ _heieuwe_ , and he was not _actually_ going to be a Speaker. It unnerved him to walk what felt like delicate line between truth and deception, integrity and manipulation. He was not so foolish as to believe that all things were clear cut, black and white. No, he had endured enough harsh lessons as taught by experience to know that was not the case. However, those were situations he often _found_ himself in, not a setting of his own making. Was he dishonoring his way of life by these actions? Even replaying Picard’s words in his head, he struggled to be entirely comfortable with the idea.

And yet even as he struggled, his own experiences with hearing _heieuwe_ in the past began to weave evermore with the memories of his own life. Surely this was the point of the entire experience! But only now had he ever given space to the idea that this applied to the Speaker as much as to those who heard.

A brief sound at the door broke into his reflection, alerting him to the voice that followed after.

“Elnor? I think we have everything ready in the holosuite if you are.”

Eyes opening, the loudness of his internal being faded into the mechanical buzz of the ship’s systems, seeming almost deafening in its relative quietness. He didn’t respond, needing the moments to take a deep, centering breath to steady himself. The reality of this journey began to sink in. These people did not know the stories like he did, this telling would be their first exposure to the world that had shaped him, that formed his very being. This was more than just sharing his own memories, his own stories and actions. He would in many ways be sharing his very person with them through the very life of the Qowat Milat. Suddenly the weight of this decision shifted from intellectual concern regarding respecting their rule of life, to the unnerving realization that in away he was offering the order, _and himself_ , up for scrutiny.

“Elnor? Everything okay in there, honey?”

The term of endearment was a cool wash of comfort. With one last breath, he gracefully melted upward and approached the door. With the door _whooshing_ aside, Raffi’s maternal gaze greeted him, brows raised in question at his delayed response. He offered her a tentative smile.

“I’m nervous. Very nervous,” he provided solemnly. The nerves began to settle some as Raffi’s face softened and warmed, gentle and consoling.

“You’ll do fine,” she encouraged, hands coming up to squeeze his shoulders. “If you can survive everything that we’ve been through since coming together, sharing something you know like the back of your hand should be no problem, right?” He smiled, mostly convinced. It was enough to cause her smile to broaden, though he caught a note of sadness at the end as she rubbed his arm affectionately. It was gone so quickly he wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t imagined it, but for the subtle clearing of her throat as she turned to stand beside him, linking her elbow with his. “So tell me how this works again, since I missed the original rundown?”

He recognized the deflection and respected it, a mental note recording itself in the back of his mind. Yes, he would be sharing deeply of himself, which was both thrilling and terrifying. He also had the rare opportunity to potentially offer healing to those who heard. Those who had become his family.

And with that, the last few nerves settled to stillness.

_-~-_

He was filled with awe and wonder entering the holosuite. An arid but gentle breeze played with his hair as he entered the meditation room of the complex back on Vashti. Chimes tinkled softly in the corner, the breeze swirling around in the early evening haze that followed first sunset. A large, low, circular table filled the center of the room, of perfect size for the six members of the crew to lounge comfortably around and still turn to face Elnor’s position as Speaker (but not Speaker) on a slightly raised dais toward the back wall. His area had but a small table, slightly off-center in the mess of cushions, where only a pitcher and simple wooden cup of water rested.

To his surprise, the center table was full – or rather was once Raffi released his arm to take an opening in the circle next to Seven, where she promptly leaned into the Ranger after situating herself on the smaller cushions surrounding the table. Elnor noted Seven’s implant raise indignantly, belied by the tenderly possessive arm wrapping around the other woman’s waist. Picard, on Raffi’s left, gave a good-natured grin as the OPS officer started a conversation with him, completely unfazed at turning one of the most formidable fighters in the quadrant into her personal settee. To Seven’s right was Soji, engaged in excited if whispered conversation with Agnes. It did his heart good to see them both shining so brightly from within, given the weight of the burdens they carried. Next to Agnes…

“Captain Rios,” Elnor greeted, surprised to find him present. The typically surly captain raised his cup to the young Romulan in response.

“I was informed that it would be considered rude to join the party after you started talking,” he shared as Agnes blushed next to him, determinedly carrying on her conversation with Soji. “So it was suggested that Enoch keep us on course while I come for your…opening remarks…or however this thing works.” Rios grunted as he received a sharp elbow to the ribs, turning his head to see Agnes glaring pointedly at him while Soji hid her amusement behind her hand. She then turned her attention to Elnor as the two began a heated, whispered exchange.

“Does everything look okay? Picard and Raffi provided most of the details since they’re the only ones of us who’d ever seen the compound on Vashti. And we made a few modifications since there are only a handful of us.” Soji’s casual speech could not hide a hint of pleading in her eyes which caused Elnor’s breath to catch, her sincerity of desire to make sure everything was just right unexpectedly poignant. Words became difficult as his heart overflowed. _This is really happening!_

“It’s perfect,” he uttered, barely audible but evident in the brilliant expression on his face. He then gestured to address all of them. “I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity. I only hope that I am able to do my sisters justice in this task…that I am able to bring them honor in sharing their story.” He paused, considering the implications of his next decision. With a brief nod, he forewent extraneous words and turned, slowly approaching his place upon the dais. The crew silenced their murmurs, settling into attentiveness as Elnor lowered himself fluidly onto the cushion. In the quiet, Elnor closed his eyes and centered himself on his breath. With each inhale, he felt himself drawn down a hallway of memory, images fading in and out with each slowing heartbeat. One final, slow, deep breath. Opening his eyes to see the garden-in-waiting of new memories gathered before him.

“To know ourselves, is to allow ourselves to be. In an existence that constantly pulls at us to conform, people often trade freedom for belonging. We, however, have chosen to belong freely to ourselves, to each other as ourselves, and to give ourselves to those we serve. We must always remember our history. We must always remember our own story. We must see that true freedom is not exchanging one for the other, but the integration of both.” Slowly, solemnly, Elnor brought his hands together before his chest. With equal gravity, gently moved them toward the others, slowly unfolding them, opening the book of his life.

“Tonight, I invite you into our story. Tonight, I invite you into my story, that you may see how our story can be lived. Tonight, we honor the vision of Ver’urai, the founder of the Qowat Milat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think at one point, I had many things I was going to see in the end notes. But they have all left me. Alas. *-_-
> 
> As always, comments greatly appreciated!


	3. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elnor begins sharing the history of the Qowat Milat, surprising the crew with very unexpected origins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning: Okay folks, the chapters will start getting longer and _significantly_ more in depth now. You have been warned!
> 
> I had gone back and forth on a few different ways to write this out. In essence, we’re walking through three stories simultaneously: the history of the Qowat Milat, the history of Elnor, and the events happening as he relays those histories. I’ve tried to weave them together while still keeping them distinct enough to avoid confusion.
> 
> Enjoy, my friends!

“Ver’urai? That’s not a name I’ve run across before,” Raffi spoke softly, thinking out loud.

“Roughly translated, it means ‘graceful fire’,” came an equally quiet voice in her ear. Raffi turned slightly to indicate she’d heard, not wanting to accidentally distract Elnor by turning to give Seven a patented “explain yourself” _look_. Her only response was a whispered “later,” with the barest brushing of lips against her ear. Doing her best not to pout, she wriggled herself somewhat indignantly against the Ranger. There was a warm chuckle as Seven pulled away from her briefly, shifting to move her legs on either side of Raffi before pulling the woman back against her, now wrapping both arms around her waist. After hearing an accepting sigh of contentment, she returned her focus to the young Romulan, admittedly eager to have someone fill in the gaps in her knowledge.

“Ver’urai was a woman of great honor and integrity. She strove bravely against the current of deceit and lies, hoping to forge a path where the true pride of Romulans could thrive. A way of living that showed strength, freedom, heart, authenticity. This was the desire the burned deep within the heart of Ver’urai. This is the seed from which the Qowat Milat was born. This is where we begin.”

|||

It was hard not to stare at the churning waters, normally so calm at this time of day. There was a distinct change in the air, she noted. Anyone could see the unsettled ocean breaking against the stubborn shore, but would they note everything else? The thick, insistent breeze carried on it hints of copper amidst the salty tang of oceanwater; some creature’s hunt had been successful, near enough for blood to scent the wind. The kill was recent, as the sounds of other wildlife normally coating this section of coastline with the cacophony of existence remained muted, other prey species not having settled from the recent disturbance. There was a charge of tension that was just on the verge of breaking, a wider stage where all the players, primary and background, were on bated breath awaiting the next cue.

“Ver’urai!”

She did not visibly jump at the sound – that would have been unbecoming of a Tal Shiar agent – but turned smoothly, pulling herself rapidly back to awareness at the crash of her name against the shore of her senses. She found her visibly disgruntled comrade standing rigidly just out of arm’s reach.

“Malek,” she called calmly, not bothering to hold back a playful smirk at his unrest. “You truly need to learn how to relax. I’m fairly certain you’re generating your own EM field disturbance, the tension is practically thrumming off of you.” His frown deepened, though his stance did loosen some.

“It’s hard to manage when it takes screaming someone’s name from a meter away after having called out multiple times on approach with absolutely no response.” Malek let out a sigh before crossing his arms in front of his chest, fully settling into a casual stance of disappointment. “How you ever survived so long as a field agent is beyond me. I swear a rampaging horde of wild tarlaks could be stampeding toward you and you wouldn’t bat an eye.”

“Nonsense, Malek. I have a very strong sense of preservation on top of excellent awareness of the space around me.” Ver’urai turned her back on the sea, leaning against the short wall of the bridge and offering a teasing grin. “If there were any actual danger, I’d have it dispatched before it had realized I moved.” Malek merely rolled his eyes in response, but Ver’urai preened at the tiny victory nonetheless.

“You never cease to fascinate me,” Malek offered in a monotone. “The fact that someone as nonchalant, lackadaisical, and practically _indifferent_ toward authority and rank as you, is now, somehow, a _colonel_.” He shook his head, honestly befuddled but equally amazed. Moments likes these were numerous, making the idea of Ver’urai being a commanding officer seem comical at best. At least, until one witnessed her military prowess and fighting capability. How the two extremes coexisted in one person was mind-blowing. But they did, and he was well aware of the fact.

He may not have been a threat, but he’d seen the end of enough threats to stay out of arm’s reach regardless.

“Was there some reason you sought me out other than marveling at the superior specimen that I am?” she offered playfully, managing to look disinterested and predatory at the same time. Ver’urai’s stance changed as she noticed Malek’s gaze shift away briefly. They’d known each other for several years, his tells were as well known to her as the beat of her own heart. After all, you can’t properly be prepared for a betrayal if you didn’t know how to recognize the ways a person betrays themselves first.

But Malek was not about to betray her. No, it wasn’t fear of her that was causing him to reflexively press his thumb and middle finger together. This was a fear of something bigger, _older_. His primal responses were activating. She could see the change in the expansion of his chest when he breathed, that subconscious thrumming tension as his body prepared for defense. It was these signs, indicators she had taken to noticing long before she knew of their implications, that had gotten her to where she was today. Attentiveness to all the things everyone else seemed to take for granted. Awareness that allowed her to know exactly when she needed to be alert, allowed the freedom to live a much freer existence than most ever thought possible in a society built on secrecy and subterfuge.

Right now, those signs were sending her on alert.

“General Laevha has called for you.”

Ver’urai waited. The general herself was not a particularly troubling factor. Nor was the summons, in and of itself. Meaning Malek knew something more, and it was that additional information that was troubling him so. However, he was Tal Shiar as well, and would not give the information readily, not even to her.

“Was this an immediate summons, or am I free to continuing bruising your ego for a while longer?” His lack of response to the jab piqued her interest. Whatever it was _really_ had his attention.

“Vice-proconsul T’Maehk is away on business and has allowed General Laevha use of her estate in her absence. You are to meet her there at 2100.” Ver’urai did not bother to hide some surprise from showing on her face. The general clearly wanted privacy to evict a senate member from their home, as Malek’s polite wording clearly communicated to her. Tal Shiar were rarely _allowed_ anything; they _requisitioned_ long before the other party was aware that they were being “asked.”

“I suppose I should go prepare for the occasion, then,” she quipped, injecting a bit of curiosity into her voice. “Was there anything else I needed to be made aware of, Major Malek? Perhaps the purpose of this summons, if you have even been made aware?”

“I believe it is little more than a recognition of your recent promotion,” he responded stiffly. “Perhaps even discussion of your future service for the Star Empire.”

_Rumors_ , she thought, based on his numerous micro-expressions, tone, word choice. _I’m being tapped for something, and that something is making people nervous._ She gave him a brief nod before moving forward, walking toward the city to return to her newly allocated quarters in the military complex. As she passed him, he stopped her with a quick hand to her shoulder.

“Vera,” he whispered, now capturing her full attention. Using that shortened name at all, much less _out in the open_ , was practically a death wish. “The shadows hide thieves, but even thieves fear the dead.”

As if nothing happened, the two continued walking in opposite directions. Ver’urai’s heart was now racing, though it was hard for her to tell whether it was fear or excitement.

_-~^~-_

“Welcome Colonel! I do hope I did not too greatly disturb your plans,” Laevha greeted with measured solemnity. “The invite was short-notice, I know.” Ver’urai, offering a slight bow, smiled with equal gravitas. She allowed herself an internal sigh, recognizing upon first sight that she was entering a political arena. An area of combat she was no less skilled in, simply one she detested with every fiber of her being.

“It’s an honor to receive such a generous offer of hospitality, General. I would be hard-pressed to want for as enjoyable an evening.” Noticing the slightest twitch of an eyebrow, Ver’urai offered a charming smirk with just a hint of bashfulness. _Oops,_ she thought smugly, _laying it on a bit too thick to start._ “This is far preferred to the task of unpacking the new quarters.” A sincere statement, and one that turned that twitch of lack of amusement to a deep chuckle of understanding.

“There has been quite a bit of change for you, no doubt,” Laevha offered, gesturing towards the armchairs in the center of the room. Ver’urai accepted the invitation to sit, keeping an eye on Laevha’s movements as was expected of her. She was confident the general had no intention of poisoning her, nor harming her in any way. No, if she had understood Malek correctly, Laevha would want her very much alive. Would want her very much to show how fully Romulan she was: she had to ooze suspicion and caution despite feeling no suspicion at all. _Well. Almost no suspicion._

“A toast, if I may,” Laevha spoke as she handed Ver’urai a glass, the bright blue ale practically glowing with invitation of ease and comfort. Accepting the glass, and therefore the challenge presented her, Ver’urai patiently awaited the general to seat herself and continue. “To your promotion, and the promising contributions it will bring to the service of the Star Empire.” Ver’urai nodded in a show of deference, allowed herself a brief moment to wonder how long this entire thing would drag on. Matching her commanding officer, she actually welcomed the rapid pace that was being set as the general practically shot the entirety of her glass, the burning liquid cutting through the slowly building headache in the back of her skull. The now empty glass had barely left her lips when Laevha had started pouring a second, gesturing in invitation to refill Ver’urai’s as well.

“Your parents were Tal Shiar, yes?”

“Caretakers, yes,” Ver’urai answered evenly. “I was an orphan. If anything was known about my biological parents, I was not told, nor did I ask.” There had been no need to, by the time she was old enough: enough missions to end treasonous dealings resulted in “finding unfortunate orphans” for her to understand exactly what had happened to her own parents.

Laevha nodded sagely. “Wise woman. Many have forsaken bright futures by becoming entranced and eventually burdened by their pasts.”

Ver’urai was grateful that the general did not plan to continue her drinking pace as she sipped casually from her glass. Not that she doubted her own tolerance, but it did significantly complicate things when she had to account for the effects of the alcohol. Things like filters. And keeping reflexes set to stun rather than kill.

“History makes a wonderful classroom and a less than hospitable residence.” Laevha’s body language shifted subtly. Ver’urai pondered whether it was intentional or not as she sipped, allowing herself a moment before deciding how to proceed. “I was fortunate to be raised by a pair who housed my training very skillfully in tradition without being resistant to modern adaptation.” The general’s resultant smile sent an electric chill down Ver’urai’s spine; despite having been intentional in her word choice, intending to follow the non-verbal breadcrumbs that were being dropped for her, she felt very certain that she was not ready for what she was being led toward.

“Tradition is certainly important,” Laevha replied with a warm, conversational tone completely at odds with that _smile_ , a curvature that seemed to snake around Ver’urai’s skin and invite her to shiver, to display some semblance of weakness to merit being shown the door then and there. “Tell me, did they ever tell you cautionary tales? The stories that terrified you as child and mortified you as an adult?”

Ver’urai felt a dangerous conclusion on the horizon, curiosity and sheer stubbornness drawing her forward. “A few…is there one in particular you’re referring to?” She somewhat hastily finished the rest of her glass, only slightly ahead of Laevha. The intent was to communicate nervousness. The general’s response was to again fill Ver’urai’s glass.

“Are you familiar with Aia?”

Ver’urai’s stomach dropped instinctively and she shivered involuntarily. Aia, homeland of the tormented dead, souls that prowled for unruly children and traitors to Romulus, who knew the secrets that even the Tal Shiar could not uncover and kept them so deep that even whispers of them were inviting certain death. Every child knew to fear Aia and its denizens.

Very, _very_ few adults had even a _hint_ of the true fear that the Zhat Vash could inspire.

“I see you are likely far more aware of what Aia entails than most,” Laevha practically crooned, the serpentine smile now lending its seductive quality to her voice. “Tell me then. What have you heard regarding the Grief World?”

Ver’urai was anxious, which was genuinely disturbing for her, because it meant she was at a loss. Every inborn Romulan habit screamed it was a trap, every Tal Shiar ingrained training screamed it was a test, and every fiber of her unique being instinctively told her it was neither yet something even more nefarious somehow.

“There is little to know,” she answered, inwardly cringing at the barest waver in her voice. “Hardly anyone is foolish enough to speak of it, and those that do tell more children’s tales than truth.”

“To make such a distinction implies you know something of that truth, then?” Laevha was the picture of patience, which only served to unsettle Ver’urai further.

“I have heard Aia referred to as the sort of…birthplace…of the Zhat Vash. A group even older than the Tal Shiar, whose purpose is unknown beyond sowing fear with the whisper of their name.” It was a bit dramatic, but still truthful, as well as the entirety of what she knew. Laevha’s expression turned pitying if slightly amused, as one would to a child confessing an irrational fear.

“One as loyal to our heritage as you are has nothing to fear, dear colonel!” A third glass was poured; Ver’urai desperately wanted to swallow it whole. “The Zhat Vash are, if nothing else, the most loyal of our people. Dedicated to the preservation of all that is true and good. At all costs, for all people.”

“For so laudable a mission, why live even more deeply in the shadows than we do?” Ver’urai cursed mentally for her rash speech. This was a delicate situation to begin with, but bringing the Zhat Vash into is was upending her ability to reason. It was an instinctive fear, one of the few she was so strongly affected by. After all, she had grown up in a shadow realm of an existence: Romulan secret police, a reclusive sect of an already phobic culture. She had never known any other life, not for lack of curiosity or desire, but due to the reality of having witnessed the gruesome ends of those who _tried_ any other life. It was a choice of survival, and she had learned to grow accustomed to a somewhat constant level of unease with the realities of what the Tal Shiar – what _she_ – was capable of. To know that the shadows dove deeper still…

“The dead are the only reliable keepers of secrets. The Zhat Vash protect a secret of unparalleled importance.” Ver’urai’s stomach dropped as a hungry gleam crept into Laevha’s eyes, the coils of that smile seeming to wrap tightly around her throat.

“You would make a fine addition to our ranks.”

_Expectations be damned,_ Ver’urai thought as she down the rest of her glass. For as casual as the invitation was, she knew that the reality of her choice was life or death. Fully aware that Laevha was already pouring her a fourth glass of ale, she waited to acclimated herself to the current level of fuzziness starting to edge around her brain. It was time to tread very, _very_ carefully.

“It would be quite an honor to be part of such an elite group,” she offered, purposefully lending a tone of skepticism to her voice. “But certainly there must be others far more suited than myself? What skills could I possibly have to offer the mission of the Zhat Vash.” Her headache grew, tiring of the delicate word play, the intricacies of communicating on so many levels beyond the words actually spoken. _Give me hand to hand with a pack of Nausicaans over this any day,_ she thought grimly.

“I would have to ask you to trust me on that accord, as only those who have shown they can withstand the immensity of the task entrusted to us can speak freely of the details of our mission.” Laevha’s deflection was demure; Ver’urai did not miss that she had not moved to refill her own glass. “But you are a patriot, Ver’urai, that much is obvious given your short yet already lustrous career. Your love of your people alone would endear you to the purpose we serve, I assure you.”

“If the Zhat Vash serve out of love of all things Romulan, perhaps someone should let Romulans know they don’t need to be so damned terrified of them,” she retorted, willingly loosening the reins on her restraint. Laevha would expect her to be fairly influenced by the alcohol at this point, so she had some room to take liberty with her speech.

“Fear is a very reliable form of loyalty, no?” Laevha’s casual tone nauseated her. There was also a hungry glint growing in her eyes, something unnerving and unwelcome. “There is power in being feared for reasons unknown. And with that power, we can do what is needed to protect us all. Zhat Vash need to be dedicated, convicted, steadfast. They are willing to do what others are not in service of the greater good. Is that not how you have served so successfully as Tal Shiar?”

All Ver’urai’s instincts were now screaming for her to leave. She would never be able to articulate it to someone: not only because speaking of anything shared in this meeting would likely be grounds for her assassination, but because it was something so basic, so primitive, language could not properly capture the reasoning. However, enough of the rational mind was in control to keep her from doing something foolish. Like running out of the room and as far away as possible.

“This is…a lot to consider. Certainly something I will give a great deal of thought,” she offered neutrally, angling for some kind of dismissal while also wishing this hopefully last glass of ale would actually do something to calm her nerves. Laevha, on the other hand, suddenly hardened. Apparently she had not expected anything other than unconditional acceptance; her displeasure at Ver’urai’s hesitance was evident.

“I appreciate you wanting to make an informed decision, colonel, but do consider quickly. I intend to depart for Aia tomorrow evening. There is space for you to accompany me.”

There it was. The offer just shy of an order, and the deadline by which she had to decide her fate. Not trusting herself to speak in such a way that wouldn’t drive her deeper into this murky tar pit of a situation, she gave a measured nod before finishing her glass. This time, she kept the empty glass in her hand.

Laevha turned the conversation to more mundane affairs after that, and they conversed casually. Ver’urai maintained her proper, “good little Tal Shiar” script in her responses, feeling more comfortable in the almost rehearsed nature of it. She was so well-practiced in it that it allowed part of her mind to scramble madly about, trying to untangle the mess she was in. After about an hour, Laevha diplomatically gave her permission to depart. But not without a reminder.

“I do hope to see you at the depot tomorrow evening,” Laveha called as Ver’urai walked through the door. “If you have any other concerns you wish to discuss before departure, you know where to find me.”

Again, Ver’urai did not trust herself to speak. Again, she nodded in acknowledgement. Again, she wondered if tomorrow would be the last day of life as she knew it.

|||

Elnor felt and heard his voice crack slightly with his last statement, turned to fill his cup and offer his voice a brief reprieve. He had never spoken for so long a stretch before. Realizing that, he spared a brief thought for what he would sound like when he had completed his task. Whether consciously in response to that thought or not, he noticed he was pouring the water as slowly as possible.

_This is good,_ he thought to himself, wanting to stretch out his very brief respite. _Not only do I need the break, but I think I have given the others much to process._

Indeed, the rest of the crew wore varying degrees of undisguised shock on their faces. As soon as Elnor gave indication that he was pausing the narrative, Agnes quickly leaned forward to break their silence in whispered tones.

“Okay, someone help me make sure I got this right…the warrior nuns were originally part of the psychopath Romulan group that tried to wipe out the synths? Did I hear that right?”

“We don’t know that yet, it doesn’t exactly sound like Ver’urai was keen on their offer,” Raffi interjected. One look at her face and it was obvious she was reveling in this deep dive into the darkest corners of Romulan history. Questions she’d spent _years_ wondering about during all her intelligence work, and the answers were being handed to her on a silver platter! She could almost be disappointed at the ease of it all, if it weren’t for the immense satisfaction that came with sating her curiosity. _Speaking of…_ she nudged Seven with her elbow. “Did you know any of this, Miss ‘I’ll just casually translate a centuries old Romulan name I have no business knowing’?”

“I did not.” Raffi waited. Seven offered no other information. She _did_ give a smug smirk as Raffi rolled her eyes when it was apparent nothing else was forthcoming. Soji shook her head to clear it, skepticism and guardedness creeping to the forefront of her mind, chased by the shadowy shape of secretive Romulans.

“Wait, so did Elnor know about the Admonition the whole time? The mission to destroy synthetics?”

“I don’t think so, _mija_ ,” Rios interjected before shifting positions. “When Raff and I went back to fix the ship before everything went down at Coppelius Station, that _hijo de puta_ ex of yours filled us in on the whole ‘end of days’ story. The kid looked just as skeptical as the rest of us.”

“Hush now, he’s ready to continue,” Picard shushed gently. It warmed him to see all of them quickly settle back in, rapt attention focused on Elnor like mesmerized children.

Elnor, having refreshed himself and soothed his throat, discreetly took in their attentive stares before fully lifting his gaze. He was amazed at how naturally the telling had been coming to him, as well as the intensity of the emotions the accompanied it. Years of hearing the history of the foundress made the sharing effortless, a great relief given the intensity of the nervousness he’d experienced beforehand. He did his best to hold on to that realization as the nerves started to creep back, realizing that he was coming upon his own sharing so very soon.

“Ver’urai was torn,” he continued, side-stepping the fears forming in his mind and slipping back into the tale for comfort, at least for now. “While she was an exemplary Tal Shiar, her heart had never truly given over to their ways. Her strength of spirit kept her compassionate and humble, even as the darkness of the missions she carried out stained her in shadows and blood. It was, as Laevha has reminded, all for love of her people. For if nothing else, Ver’urai was deeply proud of being Romulan.” Elnor’s posture straightened, his own sense of pride beginning to bleed into his voice. “We are strong, intelligent, cunning. We are powerful, adaptive, passionate. For centuries we have marched under the raptor’s wings, and for centuries to come we will continue to be blessed.”

“Yet for Ver’urai, much of the greatness of our people felt lost, overshadowed by fear and a need to protect only one’s own interest,” he continued, deflating somewhat as he connected with the pain he imagined the foundress experiencing, the exhaustion of being torn between two worlds: that which she lived, and that which others told her was true. “Survival demanded she betray what she felt to be the ideals that made our people great, for the sake of protecting those very same people. While the battle had always remained within her, it had quieted over several years of service. Only in her encounter with Laevha did it awake anew. If she accepted Laevha’s offer, if she joined the Zhat Vash, she would be fully and finally sacrificing herself to a level of darkness she had never known, in order to serve her people even further. If she did not, she knew her life was forfeit in the eyes of the Tal Shiar, let alone the Zhat Vash; how could she serve her people if she were dead? Or at best, alone, isolated, a pariah to all she encountered?”

“Many Romulans find themselves facing such conflicts, uncertain of where truth lies when lies masquerade so easily as truths. And so she turned that night to the Zhal Makh.” Elnor paused briefly, having seen the quick, panicky breath taken by Soji, the sudden tensing as if ready to flee. He was uncertain of the reason for her reaction, but also could not address it in the moment. With a momentary discomfort, he made a mental note and opened his mouth, intending to continue. He stopped again though, realizing that it was unusual that Soji appeared to recognize a very closely guarded Romulan tradition because she was not Romulan. Meaning the others would likely not understand the significance either. His gaze happened over toward Seven, locking eyes briefly. Whether or not she knew of his conundrum, she offered a quirked brow. He smiled in response, hearing her in his mind: _You will adapt._

“This traditional meditation began with the _yuht makh_ , as she centered herself, closed her eyes to the noise of the expectations around her: that which Laevha expected of her, or Malek, or any of her colleagues. As she approached _lu shiar_ , she lifted her eyes to truly look, for the first time, at the intense battle within her. At _qlam wath_ , the truth and the lies began to unfold before her, and she was able to finally approach that decision she had feared and avoided. Through _rok khan_ she confronted her own role in this battle of wills in order to reach _vri glam_ , the center, where she finds the truth that she must pursue if she is to be true to herself.”

Allowing a moment for the information to sink in, Elnor felt something bright and warm fill him. That was _not_ something he had ever heard before, given it was understood that those hearing would know all the implications of the Zhal Makh. And yet hear, in his telling, he was able to create something that could aid his companions across that gap of knowledge. Scanning their faces, he expected some level of confusion, certainly. What he found was thoughtful contemplation, a reflective aura so different from the shock they were displaying earlier. And, thankfully, Soji no longer appeared ready to flee. Elnor’s heart gladdened, even as it raced.

With a centering breath, he closed his eyes, visualized himself setting aside the worn and weathered book of Ver’urai, open and waiting for its next chapter to be shared. To his other side laid a much smaller, crisp, clean volume, yet unshared with any in this context. Opening his eyes, he found his own hands opened before him, not even conscious of the motion. And he smiled, as his mind’s eye showed the book of Elnor spread on his palms, offered to these, his family.

“I, too, have had to make the choice, between that which was known to me, and that which was true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to lay out my headcanon…
> 
> In the Picard novel, they lay out that there is deep enmity between the Tal Shiar and the Qowat Milat. In the episode Nepenthe just before the fight between Narissa and Elnor, she says “This is not how Zhat Vash fights Qowat Milat.” Clearly there is a storied history between the two groups. So aside from the fact the Way of Absolute Candor is the complete antithesis of Romulan culture (even more for the obsessively secretive Tal Shiar and Zhat Vash), what better way to completely piss a group off than for _one of their own_ to develop the Way? =)
> 
> Regarding the Zhal Makh, if you check out [this breakdown of the Zhal Makh](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Zhal_Makh), you’ll see that I switched the last two segments. The choice was based on the behind the scenes commentary regarding the Zhal Makh, where it was described as going _through_ the _rok khan_ to reach the center. Plus, it makes no sense that the center wouldn’t be the last step? Is that just me?
> 
> Next chapter will finally (for reals this time!) dive into Elnor’s story. It will also explain why Seven seems to have some knowledge about Romulan history that the Romulan super-nerd Raffi does not. =)
> 
> Translation notes:
> 
>  _Mija_ – affectionate term for females, literally “my daughter”
> 
>  _Hijo de puta_ – son of a bitch, literally “son of a whore”
> 
> As always, comments greatly appreciated! <3


	4. The Burden of Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elnor remembers his first _heieuwe_ , his first friends, and his first realization that life isn't as great as it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention these chapters are getting longer?
> 
> I pick on little Elnor a bit in this one. My apologies. <3

Elnor was bored. He was excited at first when Zani told him he could join them for _heieuwe_. He had imagined all sorts of amazing things: secret fighting moves, special foods, lots of games, all of the magical ideas only a small child could fabricate. When they all gathered, he could tell this was very important: almost every sister he had ever known was all in the central room, all at once! His excitement began to bubble over as he practically bounced next to Zani. He told her how excited he was; she always told him it was important for him to say what he was feeling whenever he felt it. She gave him a warm smile, which made him happy, so he told her. Then she laughed gently before telling him to sit next to her, saying it was important for him to pay as close attention as he could. _Heieuwe_ is very important for our community, she told him. Again. She had said it a hundred times since she first told him he could join them this year, he was certain. He politely responded his acknowledgement, then sat attentively next to her, eagerly awaiting. Then, one of the older sisters sat up front and start talking.

And talking. And talking. And at first Elnor was paying very close attention to the story, but _everyone_ knew the story of the Foundress, so he wasn’t sure why they were having to listen to it again. Looking around, he saw that everyone else seemed very interested, and he couldn’t figure out why. He _knew_ they all knew this; they were the ones who had told him!

“Zani, I’m bored,” Elnor informed her plainly, no hint of whining in his voice.

“I am sorry, Elnor. Even in boredom, we must still be respectful. If you are concerned you cannot be so, you may leave, but understand you cannot rejoin if you do so.”

Elnor considers. With all of the sisters here, there wouldn’t be much to do if he left. And Zani had repeatedly told him this was an important event. Maybe they just hadn’t gotten to the good parts yet. Lots of times the sisters have told him if he waits, he can eventually get what he’s waiting for, and most of the times they’re right. He nods to himself before leaning into Zani’s side. His heart warms when she drapes her arm around him, a rare show of affection in front of the others.

And he listens, as best he can, though there are several moments where he drifts off to sleep. He tries to remember what he can when he’s awake, but it seems silly again because it’s all things he has already been taught. Be honest. Say what you feel. Help others. Care for your sisters. Fight fair. Do your work well. Maybe he had missed something in between, during the times he fell asleep. Fortunately, there were times that Zani had to leave to take care of some task, and she allowed him to go with her. Apparently you were allowed to rejoin so long as you were leaving to do something and not just because you were tired of listening. He had tried to ask Zani questions during these little outings, but she quickly explained that just because they were no longer in the central room did not mean that they were not to “remain reflective,” whatever that meant.

But finally, after a full two days more, he was free! When he awoke that morning, Zani shooed him along playfully.

“You’ve done well, little one,” Zani said as she waved him off, “Now go and run off the energy that has built up, before you explode!” Grinning emphatically, Elnor did just that.

He ran to the village nearby, no real plan in mind. It felt good to simply run around and feel sun and air. He responded to a number of greetings that reached his ears as he loped about the square. Most of the people knew him by name, but every once in a while, he would hear the occasional “sister boy.” He wasn’t certain why they would call him that rather than his name but thought maybe they had forgotten it momentarily. Some of the older sisters seemed to do that, where they would forget a word or something when they were talking to him; eventually it came back, but not before they had found some other way to say what they meant. He had thought this was something only old people did, but as the people who forgot his name were not always old, perhaps he was mistaken.

A new sound caught his ear. It was laughter, but it sounded like his laugh instead of like that of the adults. There hadn’t been any children in this village for as long as he could remember. When he had asked why there were no little people like him, she had informed him that many people stayed in the city that was much further away, and the ones with children didn’t often like to stay out in this area. He didn’t understand why, because he felt it was the best place ever. There was plenty of space to run, there was water nearby to swim and play in, and trees everywhere to climb. Plus, there were always sisters around. Wouldn’t life be boring without all of that?

But now, apparently, there were other children! He ran toward the direction of the sound and sure enough found three other boys, looking not too much older than him, kicking a ball back and forth to each other. He noticed they wore clothes like the other adults in the village, rather than the darker wraps and fabrics that he and the sisters wore. There were dirt smudges on their faces, along with big smiles. Elnor was smiling, too. He wanted them all to be smiling for the same reasons now.

“Look out!” one of them called. Elnor barely had a moment to register what was happening but had instinctively thrown his arms crossed in front of his face. This was normally the appropriate response when he heard such warning with the sisters, who would occasionally play games with him that required him to not get hit by various soft projectiles. The ball the boys were playing with was significantly bigger though and came it him with far greater force; while he had successfully blocked it, his arms hit his face and he stumbled backward from the impact, landing with a solid _thwump_ on his bottom. Slightly dazed but none the worse for wear, he was back on his feet by the time the others approached him.

“You move fast!” the one who had kicked the ball said. “How did you do that?” Elnor looked at him, perplexed.

“I play training with the sisters a lot,” he responded matter-of-factly. “They say it makes me faster and stronger. You all play training, too…doesn’t it make you faster?” Elnor found his confusion now mirrored in their faces.

“Training? We weren’t training, we were just playing around. Do you wanna play with us?” Elnor blinked. Why did they make it sound like two different things?

“I’m confused,” he declared. “But yes, I want to join you! My name is Elnor.” He brought his closed hands up in front of him, opening them to the others. They gave him a strange look. He was used to those when he was in the village, so didn’t think anything of it.

“I’m Khoal,” said the tallest boy, though only barely so. He gestured to his right toward a shorter boy with lighter hair, the color of dried river mud. “This is my brother Niral.”

“I’m Jaken,” said the boy who kicked the ball, nearly the same height as Khoal. “Our families just came here from the city a few days ago. It’s kinda boring, but now that we know someone else is here we can play with, maybe it’ll be more fun!” Elnor didn’t think he could smile any bigger. It almost made his face hurt.

“I like fun!” The boys laughed.

“You’re strange,” said Niral. “Come on, now we can play teams!”

The little troop ran off to the outskirts of the village, laughing and causing a general ruckus along the way. Elnor hardly felt the passage of time, enjoying himself more than he ever had before. He found that the others were impressed by his strength and agility, almost as much as he was surprised by how slowly they seemed to move. Eventually the game shifted to where they’re goal seemed to be to get the ball passed Elnor. With three against one, they even succeeded on occasion.

The game ended when growling stomachs made their hunger known. Having plopped down on the ground in tired giddiness, they rested briefly before discussion of food started up.

“Elnor, do they have anything to eat in all those shops?” Khoal asked. Elnor noticed there was an odd inflection to how he asked the question, but ignored it. He thought maybe that was how they talked in the city.

“Merik has lots of sweets at his stall, and I think Raha still has meat skewers from the last hunting,” he provided helpfully. The three boys sat up and looked at each other. Elnor watched from his reclined position. They made strange faces, but didn’t say anything. It reminded him of the times some of the sisters would look at each other before nodding suddenly and going off to do something. He hadn’t realized this was something he could do, and felt a little embarrassed at the realization, as he clearly didn’t know how to do it.

“Can you show us?” Jaken asked. Having stood up, he stepped over and offered a hand down to Elnor. Elnor nodded enthusiastically, taking Jaken’s hand before practically running back into the village. He heard the stomping footsteps behind him, accompanied by the boys’ laughter, so he knew they were keeping up. Slowing as they entered the square, he pointed to the food stalls.

“Raha’s shop is here, and Merik’s is over th–” he was interrupted as the ball they had previously been playing with flew by his head, knocking out one of the beams supporting the awning over Raha’s stall. It also knocked a fair amount of her merchandise off with it before bouncing around and certainly causing a mess behind. Elnor turned around, but the boys appeared to have vanished. Eyes darting everywhere, he couldn’t seem to find any trace of them. He was about to search in earnest when a distraught cry got his attention. Raha, who had stepped away from her stall, was surveying the damage and beginning to clean things up. Others in the square had come over to see what the commotion was about, some offering to help.

“Did anyone see what happened?” a man questioned.

“A ball knocked over one of the beams,” Elnor answered unflinchingly. “It knocked everything over. I’m sorry.” Suddenly the man grabbed his shoulder, turning Elnor forcefully toward him.

“And just why would you do such a thing?”

Elnor’s eyes widened. He hadn’t been apologizing because he had done anything! He was just sorry that the bad thing had happened to Raha! “I didn’t kick the ball!” he quickly responded, “I was telling the others –”

“Others?!” the man interrupted. “What others? You’re the only child here!” Soon there was an angry shout, and they all turned toward the other side of the square. Merik stood gesturing frantically at the large empty spaces in his display, where significant quantities of his own product had once been. The man now just about picked Elnor up by the front of his outfit. “Did you plan this with your thieving little friends?” Elnor shook his head, somewhat panicked.

“Let him go, Galan,” Raha called out miserably. “The little boy nun had about as much to do with this as a newborn babe. Likely those newcomers from the city had some fun with him.”

Elnor didn’t understand what Raha meant, but apparently the man did. He released Elnor, but not before giving him a look of…disappointment?

“Bad enough that you’re spending time with the likes of _them_ , but to be so clueless as to fall for something like this?” He shook his head before walking off. “Useless _yikh_.”

Elnor tilted his head, uncertain what had happened. He looked around, but everyone seemed to have gone about their business, either helping Raha clean up her stall or in general heading away from the scene. Confused, he began a slow walk back toward home, replaying the events in his mind to see if he could piece together any answers. He was about halfway in his walk, a decent distance outside the village, when he heard his name. Looking up, Khoal and Niral revealed themselves from behind a bush; Jaken was nowhere in sight.

“Good job, brother,” Niral laughed with a hearty slap on Elnor’s back. “Here’s your share.”

Niral grabbed his hand, placing a hastily wrapped bundle into it. Elnor was shocked and incredibly confused. His heart had warmed at the affectionate title, but he felt an uneasiness in his stomach. His share? What job had he done? Opening up the bundle, he recognized the osol twists as coming from Merik’s stall. His distress was clearly visible in his face as he looked back up at the two brothers, whose own faces were pictures of smug confidence.

“I don’t understand,” Elnor breathed, voice wavering. “You messed up Raha’s stand on purpose? And you stole from Merik?” His stomach dropped further when the boys’ response was laughter.

“You can stop pretending, Elnor! You really fooled those adults. We barely had to sneak!” Khoal wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, he had been laughing so heartily.

“But this is wrong! We need to go apologize!” Elnor was appalled as the boys laughed harder. Why did they not seem to understand? “We need to be truthful!”

It was only at that declaration that Khoal looked at him clearly. Elnor felt the tension in his chest begin to release as Khoal’s laughter quieted, followed by a light backhand to his brother’s chest.

“Niral. I don’t think he’s pretending.” Niral’s laughter stopped suddenly. Elnor felt the tension return twofold at the looks now on their faces.

“We can’t tell them we did it, Elnor,” Khoal said with a nervous chuckle. “We needed something. We took it. That’s what your supposed to do.” Niral nodded vigorously in support.

“Yeah, if we don’t practice, we can’t become Tal Shiar like our parents.” Elnor blinked, confusion deepening. Tal Shiar were not good people. The Foundress left the Tal Shiar…he couldn’t quite remember _exactly_ why, probably having fallen asleep at some point, but he definitely remembered that much.

“Why would you want to do that?” he asked innocently. “The Tal Shiar are bad. That’s why the Qowat Milat left.” Both boys stiffened as if receiving an electric shock. Elnor found this curious, but was distracted by the sound of approaching footsteps from behind. He turned to find Jaken running toward them.

“Sorry! I had to hide, the grouchy old man wouldn’t move and I was stuck behind a barrel…what’s wrong with you two?” he panted, slowing on his approach and ending by Elnor’s side. Niral’s face twisted into a sneer.

“Get away from him Jaken! He’s Qowat Milat,” he practically hissed. Jaken jumped away from Elnor before shaking his head.

“He can’t be. He’s a boy! I thought all the Qowat Milat were sisters?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Khoal said darkly, glaring hatefully at Elnor, who was terribly distraught, osol twists all but forgotten in his hand. “Whatever he is, he’s not normal.” Pulling his shoulders back, he gave Niral and Jaken pointed stares before walking toward Elnor. “Let’s get back. We need to let our parents know about this stupid _yikh_ ,” he jeered, forcefully bumping Elnor as he passed. The other two in perfectly obedient mimicry shoved by him as well.

Elnor stood, a whirlwind of emotions. He turned to watched them walk away, not understanding anything they had said. He lifted a hand to his chest, clutching the fabric there. His heart _hurt_. That was the one thing he was certain of. Rubbing his chest hard, as if he could soothe the deep ache underneath, he continued his journey home, leaving on the ground the bounty he had inadvertently earned.

_-~^~-_

It was well past dusk when he arrived, eyes burning from tears and chest sore from continued rubbing. Other sisters had taken notice of his state and asked after him, but he immediately sought out Zani. She was always the one to go to when he had confusing feelings, and he was the most confused he’d ever been in his life, he was sure. Finally, one sister stopped him gently and directed him out to the back porch, saying she would send Zani to him.

“Are you hurt, little one?” Zani asked gently as she sat beside him. Fresh tears escaping, he instinctively curled into her side.

“My feelings are hurt, and my heart hurts, and my head hurts,” he blubbered. He felt the comforting pressure of her arm wrapping around him, her other hand ruffling his thick, short hair. Nothing was said as he simply continued to cry. It helped him feel better, but somehow made the hurt worse, too. Confusing thoughts and images swirled through his head and he replayed the troublesome events, words and tones sticking out like barbs in his mind. He had just wanted to have a good time with his new friends. Somehow it had all gone terribly wrong.

When he had calmed, he took a deep stuttering breath before relaying the day’s events to Zani. Periodically she would interrupt with a question, which he answered with as much clarity as he could. Sometimes she would take several moments to consider before asking him to continue, mostly she would just nod and he would keep going. When he was done, he felt very tired.

“Zani, what is _yikh_?” he asked, pulling away from her to see her face when she answered. It turned a little angry before becoming sad, the kind of sad she would get when he would ask about his parents sometimes.

“It is not a kind word, Elnor,” she answered gently. “It hurts my heart, too, to know this term was used on you. It means someone who is not Romulan.” Elnor’s brow furrowed.

“But I am Romulan. Why would they call me someone who is not Romulan?” At this Zani released him, turning to face him fully. Elnor straightened; Zani often did this when she was being very serious. He knew to pay close attention.

“Because you do not act like the Romulans they are used to. You act like Qowat Milat. And the Qowat Milat are very different from other Romulans.” He considered this, bits and pieces of things he had heard from the past two days coming to mind.

“But we are still Romulan, right?” Zani smiled softly, nodding.

“In many ways, Qowat Milat are more Romulan than most would believe. But it is hard for people to accept something different from what they know. You could not understand those boys’ actions, correct?” Elnor thought about this, eyes widening as he began to make the connections.

“They said that they needed to act that way so they can be Tal Shiar someday like their parents. Those are the things their parents teach them, like you teach me about Absolute Candor?” Zani nodded, filling his heart with pride. It was short-lived as his brow soon furrowed again. “By why would someone teach people to be dishonest and hurt other people?”

“That is a very good question, Elnor, and one I do not have a good answer for,” came the sad response. “The Romulan way of life has different rules, because people interact with each other in very different ways than we do. For many of them, they would never choose anything different. But it is important to remember that just because they are different does not make all of them bad. Not all of them would treat you the way those boys did, nor talk to you the way Galan and Raha did.”

He exhaled loudly in relief, turning to look up at the darkening sky, the first stars starting to take up watch in the darkness. It was scary to think that everyone outside his home would be that mean to him eventually. It was also all still very confusing, though he felt like everything inside him was calmer now. One more question creeped its way to the front of his thoughts.

“Zani, Jaken said I can’t be Qowat Milat because I’m a boy. Is that true?” Silence fell. Elnor listened to the breeze and the night song of the bugs for a few seconds before turning to look at Zani. Sometimes she took a long time to answer if he asked a very complicated question, she told him sometime she had to think about how to say things so that he could understand. He didn’t think this was a hard question though.

After several more seconds, Zani did something unexpected: she didn’t answer him. Instead, she asked, “Do you want to be Qowat Milat?”

“I thought I was,” he answered simply. Zani gave him that sad smile again.

“You live with us, as do a number of younger sisters. That does not make you Qowat Milat. You have seen how much the sisters have to learn before they are given their own _tan qalang_.” Elnor’s shoulders dropped and he pouted, which for some reason made Zani chuckle. He was caught up in the thought of all the things he had to learn yet. It was true, now that she reminded him, the sisters were much older than him that recently received their blades. Would he _ever_ make it that far? Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, so he lifted his head back up.

“Elnor, you are still young. You do not have to decide everything now, but you do have to understand that you will have to make important choices.” He straightened up again. It sounded like Zani was giving him a big task. He wanted to show he was old enough to handle it. “You have been with us, learned our ways, and lived our life for as long as you can remember. But someday you may decide you want to live a different way. It will be up to you to decide what is your truth. Do you understand?”

Elnor considered quietly. “I am happy here. I was also very happy playing with Khoal and the others.” He raised inquisitive eyes to Zani. “Do you mean I can’t do both?”

Now Zani just looked sad. “I don’t have a good answer for you, little one. For now, it is time for bed. Such thoughts are very heavy for even the wisest minds, and you were already very tired before you began thinking them.”

As if on cue, Elnor yawned. He was rubbing his eyes as Zani stood, offering a hand down to him to pull him up. As they reached his cot, he thought about what it would be like to erase everything that happened after they stopped playing and went to the square. What it would be like to play with Khoal and Niral and Jake all the time, and teach them how to be faster and stronger, and learn about life in the city. He thought about doing that, and then coming home and listening to stories, and learning how to fight, and laughing with all the sisters. The thoughts made him happy. But then he remembered the looks the boys had given him before they walked away, and thought that even though he might want both, they might not want him to have both. He was suddenly sad again.

But then Zani wrapped his blankets around him, leaning down to touch her forehead to his with a soft goodnight. He decided that for now, he would be happy that he was home. And as he drifted to sleep, he decided that was the most important thing of all.

|||

Elnor poured himself another cup of water, both to sooth his throat and to give himself time to recover emotionally. He had lost himself in the telling, was unprepared for the openness of his friends faces. He had forgotten they did not know these things about him, memories that for him were simply stepping-stones to who he had become today rather than events of sadness and pain. Emotions he still felt in their remembering, to be certain; definitely not to the extent written on the faces of the crew.

With a final swallow, he gently returned his cup and straightened one last time. “Every journey begins with choice. Every choice is an opportunity. We must remember this rather than take for granted even the smallest decisions we make, lest we lose an opportunity to be our most true and honest self. It is with this mindset that we reflect before continuing our journey.” Repeating his opening motion, he stood effortlessly and made straight for the exit. While it was expected for the Speaker to leave straightaway, not engaging with the others so as to remain in the soul of the telling even when approaching rest, he was unashamedly grateful that he had the freedom to go straight to bed.

Rios turned to watch Elnor as he departed, about to call out were it not for Agnes’ hand squeezing his shoulder. Turning back toward the others, he found a variety of expressions as they processed everything they had just heard. Not quite ready to go there himself, he gestured in the direction of the exit. “Am I the only one concerned that he just poured himself out to us and then hightailed it out of here?”

“It’s part of the ritual,” Agnes explained, nudging him with what was meant to be teasing smile; it didn’t reach the sadness in her eyes.

“The Speaker doesn’t do anything other than relay the history of the order as well as their own history,” Soji went on to explain. “Literally, _anything_ , including interacting with anyone else.” Brow raised in surprise, Rios reached for a drink before responding.

“And he’s got two more days of this? _Dios mio,_ that might be the longest I’ll have gone without some absurd question or comment from him since I met him.” This earned him another sharp jab from Agnes, after which he caught her hand, weaving his fingers through hers. Her scolding glare softened as his own expression relaxed, gaze coming unfocused as he considered Elnor’s tale. “Kid started off young…how old do you think he was in that story?”

“I’m assuming it was before we met,” Picard responded with a tired sigh. Many of the memories he had of Elnor as a boy were always so bright and innocent, exuding from the child’s natural charisma and energy. It wore on his heart to hear of difficulties outside of the considerable ones he already knew the young Romulan had experienced. “From the way he described the village, my best guess is that was still on Inxtis, before we had arrived to relocate them to Vashti. He couldn’t have been more than 5 then?”

“Which would probably put him closer to 7 or 8, being Romulan,” Raffi interjected. “I remember how small he looked, but the way he talked! First thing he said to us was that humans were ugly!” she recalled with a chuckle, shared by most at the table. “But seriously, to have to deal with something like that at such a young age?” A brief quiet descended as they all considered, thoughts running along similar tracks: they were all grown adults and _still_ struggled with their sense of self and who they choose to be. How could a child be expected to handle that?

“We know how he turned out, so at least there’s little concern there,” Seven finally broke the period of reflection with characteristic pragmatism. Raffi rolled her eyes before shifting away from the Ranger to give her a pointed look. Seven lifted a hand before she could speak, nodding obligingly. “I don’t know anything more than I’ve already shared. As you’re well aware, the _Shaenor_ is the only known Romulan vessel to have ever been assimilated, and it was done so by the Artifact. For the brief time that I was in control of the cube, I…gained…the knowledge it had obtained during that encounter.” Gained seemed the softest term for the forceful influx of information that came with connecting oneself to a Borg cube.

“But assimilating the _Shaenor_ was what led to the submatrix collapse,” Soji piped in. “How did you remain unaffected?” Seven tensed, shifting uncomfortably. Discussing her brief time as queen was never pleasant.

“Before I took full control of the cube, I had activated its regeneration protocols. It wasn’t for long, but during that time it was able to isolate whatever had triggered the collapse itself, segregate it as a protective measure. An immune system response, if you will. Once I was connected…” she closed her eyes, trying to fend off the flood of images, sounds, sensations both hers and not that washed over her. Feeling Raffi’s hand slip into hers, she gripped tightly, anchoring herself. “What remained gave me command of the Romulan language, and enough history to know that among the Tal Shiar the name Ver’urai is spoken rarely, and with immense vitriol.”

“I wouldn’t be too fond of someone who tried to completely undermine society as I knew it, either,” Agnes murmured around her mug.

“Well someone will have to fill me in on the details tomorrow,” Rios groaned as he stood, stretching from having sat still for so long. “Gotta stop at a nearby station to pick containers up from a Bularian of all things. Customer has some strange and very specific requests for how everything is packaged.”

“I will assist,” Seven offered, getting to her feet as it was clear they were all dispersing for the evening. “I know Elnor typically helps with those tasks.” Rios nodded, smiling.

“Given your penchant for efficiency, maybe we’ll miss less of the story-telling than I thought,” he quipped as they all exited the holosuite.

“It’s not story-telling!” came the immediate, unexpectedly sharp response in stereo from both Soji and Agnes. Rios hands flew up in defense as Picard simply chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inxtis is a reference to _Last Best Hope_ , where Picard and Raffi first encounter the Qowat Milat and learn _just_ how deep the enmity is between them and the Tal Shiar.
> 
> I have decided I need to stop writing and posting these chapters at the end of the day, because my tired brain forgets all the other notes and things that I had intended to place here, in the notes and things. Alas.
> 
> As always, comments greatly appreciated! <3


	5. The Founding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew it had been a long time since I had worked on this, but no clue exactly how long!
> 
> This chapter is Ver'urai-heavy, but starts to play more and more into Elnor's story (as I have decreed it of course).
> 
> Thank you all for your patience! And now, we lay the final bits of foundation for the birth of the Qowat Milat! :)

Elnor was exhausted. Meditation was doing little to quell his anxiety, to bring down his racing heartrate or calm the tension that had his muscles wound tight as if for impending battle. The deep, slow, controlled breaths brought that activity in his mind and body to his attention with an unusual hyperawareness yet did nothing to help him soothe the alertness. Even so, he also felt he could crawl back into his bed for hours if he would allow himself. He found himself wondering if every Speaker underwent this strange duality, or if it was his unlucky lot for attempting something he was never meant for.

With a sigh, he did his best to banish the thought and close out his morning routine. He had crafted the telling in his mind, playing the intricate visualization of weaving his own experiences into the tapestry created by the Foundress, laying threads next to those of all he had heard before him. The thought again of how long he would be speaking echoed the call of his bed, inviting him to slough off this immense task and take his rest in obscurity. Moments before he was about to give the thought more serious consideration, a chime softly cut through to his hearing. Curious, he quickly rose to his feet and gave thanks; now that he was in motion, the darker voices seemed much quieter.

“Good morning,” Soji greeted as the door opened. Elnor blinked at her in surprise. Speakers did not speak outside of the telling. Granted, he wasn’t actually a Speaker…but it still felt wrong to converse outside of the meditation room. Soji quickly lifted a hand, pausing the obvious conflict in his features. “I know, Speakers aren’t supposed to interact with other people during _heieuwe_. You don’t have to worry about talking with me.” Soji smiled as relief crossed the young Romulans face. “I was hoping that maybe I could catch you before you start today and that you could maybe just…listen?”

Elnor’s brow furrowed in consideration. There was an internal groan at the situation, feeling this was another dilemma of playing with the wording of the rules. Picard’s words returned to him, along with Zani’s example, however. Examining Soji’s expression, it was clear that whatever she wanted to share was of great importance to her. This softened the tight band around his heart, allowing him to smile softly and nod. The young synth released a sigh of relief herself, stepping aside as Elnor exited his quarters.

“I wanted to thank you, for all of this,” she offered as they strolled slowly toward the holosuite. “You know my experience with the Romulans has been…less than ideal,” she offered diplomatically. Elnor allowed his sympathy to show on his features, as he could not voice it. He did not know many specifics of what had happened to Soji before she came into Picard’s care, but he knew she had definitely been hurt by Narek. He had already disliked the Zhat Vash agent for his association and relation to Narissa, after she had taken Hugh’s life. To know the disgusting creature had hurt Soji as well…Elnor drew a steadying breath before his thoughts got away from him in a different, more violent direction.

“Narek used the Zhal Makh to get the location of Coppelius from me,” she blurted out suddenly. Elnor’s eyes shot open wide, shock and horror filling him as he stopped walking. Learning that such a sacred instrument was used maliciously broke his heart while also stoking a deep flame of rage, his dislike quickly dancing toward hatred. Soji turned to face him, reaching to take his hands in hers at the look on his face. “I was scared when you mentioned it last night. But you described it with such reverence, with such beauty…it helped to remind me that Narek doesn’t represent _all_ Romulans. That there is _good_ there, in your culture, in your history. I…I had forgotten a lot of that after…” she trailed off and looked away, sad. Elnor felt the intense emotions that had been roiling within him fade away, filled with concern for the young woman before him. He squeezed her hands, causing her to look back up and meet his gaze. He tried with all his might to convey his feelings in his eyes, wanting desperately to comfort her without breaking his obligation to silence outside of the telling. Soji laughed gently, smiling. “I just wanted to say thank you. I knew I would be learning a lot, but I wasn’t exactly expecting to be getting therapy out of the deal, too.” Elnor tilted his head, slightly confused, and Soji laughed a little louder. She then reached up to cup his cheek affectionately, the gesture bringing a smile to his face as well.

“Thank you for showing me all the good Romulans have to offer.” His smiled widened and he found himself being pulled into a hug. Arms wrapping tightly around his friend, he tried to will all his gratitude into the embrace, feeling so many of his own doubts dissipate. Eventually they pulled apart, Soji giving him one last quick smile as she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. Watching her walk away, Elnor took a moment to center himself, then determinedly entered the holosuite behind her.

When he reached his place on the dais, he took to arranging himself as comfortably as possible by trying very hard not to think of how long he would be here. He took a brief look at his friends, noticing the captain and Seven were absent. The remaining four were settling themselves, a few last whispers before they turned their attention toward him. A nervous inhale filled his chest, despite the encouraging encounter with Soji moments earlier. He closed his eyes, remembering Zani coaching him so many years ago, the first time he was being evaluated on his form.

_Release, little one. The longer the dam fills, the more difficult to control the rush._ His eyes opened, and he spoke.

|||

“You will die.” Malek was pacing frantically as Ver’urai moved with slow, measured motions. “They will find you, and you will die, and here you look for all the world like you are preparing for some sort of spiritual retreat!”

Ver’urai did not respond, simply continued unpacking some things while setting select others aside; items she would take with her as she ran. She most certainly was not untouched by Malek’s distress, felt it buzzing strongly through her most primal survival instincts. But after the Zhal Mahk, there was a clarity in the eye of this particular hurricane that left her convicted, even as she feared for her life.

“You should leave, Malek,” she finally said in a quiet, even tone. “You know the longer you are here, the more you become tied to my name, the greater the risk to your own life.” Malek released a harsh laugh, sounding both incredulous and angry.

“Are you saying you’ve just decided to die, then? For what? What _happened_ to you, Ver’urai?” The accusatory tone lit something within her, and now, finally, she reacted.

“I have always seen something different, have never seen the Tal Shiar as perfect, and you _know_ this Malek!” She stood and approached him, his pacing having stopped once she spoke. He stood tall, immovable, physically intimidating despite the aggravated confusion clear in his eyes, the deep yet hurried rise and fall of his chest. Unfazed, she stood toe to toe with him, head tilted up to aim her fiery gaze into his own as if there weren’t half a head difference in their height. “I will fight, bleed, and die for my people, you know that has always been true, but that shouldn’t mean fighting _against_ them. Terrorizing them, manipulating them, controlling their motions like pieces in a war game. I have continued to play this game because I am damn good at it, and out of the hope that one day, just _one day_ I could find a way to change the rules and actually _save_ our people.” Malek rolled his eyes, throwing his arms out wide?

“Save them from what?”

“From us!” Ver’urai practically screamed back at him, attempting to shove him. He, however, was fully planted, and she merely succeeded in stumbling backward a step or two herself. “We aren’t protecting the greatness of the Romulan way of life, we are preserving the power of those trampling it!” She was back in his face, somehow seeming even more intimidating in her shorter stature as she grabbed his lapels and pulled herself up on her toes. It should have been comical, and she knew it, yet every fiber of her being radiated rage and dared him to even think about mocking her for it. She also knew he would not.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenged.

Malek’s only response was an angry sigh. It gave her no satisfaction. They had worked together long enough, had come to some level of agreement that things were not as they should be: being a proud Romulan should elicit respect and awe, not fear and trembling, yet here they were touting themselves as the vanguard of the pinnacle of Romulan society who feasted on that fear and offered it as currency to those like them. Malek simply took it, resigned to the way things were. Ver’urai, however, took it with intention, with a desire to _change_ things.

“But Zhat Vash, Vera,” he whispered emphatically, unintentionally shortening her name. She did not miss it, even if he had, misinterpreting the quick sharpening of her gaze. “The power you could have, the things you could _do_. All the change you’ve wanted to make…you can’t do that if you’re dead!” She shoved him harder this time, actually shifting him some and this time compensating for the rebounded momentum it would give her, allowing her to stalk away and return to her unpacking/packing.

“At what cost, Malek? No one outside the Zhat Vash knows what it actually takes to be inducted _into_ the Zhat Vash, and even the tamest rumors say death is favorable to failure.” She paused in her movements, remembering the conversation with Laevha. There was a shiver before she continued. “I think the Zhat Vash are a deeper darkness than I originally thought possible, and complicity with that, even in the name of revolution…I don’t know if I could live with it afterward.”

Silence descended then, broken only by Ver’urai’s half-hearted movement. Malek sighed quietly before eventually lowering himself onto generic, standard-issue couch that groaned along with him. Ver’urai saw his head in his hands in her peripheral vision, feeling for him. It would be a hard connection to lose, trust being so difficult to come by in their line of work. She would not, however, bring him down with her. Not only for his sake, but for her own integrity.

“Leave, Malek,” she spoke in that same firm, even tone. “Laevha isn’t expecting me until later this evening. No doubt she is having me watched in the meantime, but the sooner you leave the easier it will be to convince them that you were looking for information that I was not willing to give.” There was no room for doubt now that he would be questioned once she was declared a deserter, he had spent too much time in her quarters at this point.

“What do you hope to accomplish, Vera?” he asked tiredly, looking up at her if only to see the instant reaction to the shortened name. He was not disappointed.

“Enough with your sentimentality, Malek!” she shouted, whirling on him. “I will do what _I_ need to do, I will live the way _I_ need to in order to truly honor who we are as Romulans! Whether or not it makes a difference is no longer the point, because the only other thing I can be certain of is that if I continue down the path I am on now, I will perpetuate the darkness, and I refuse to have any more part in it!” Huffing angrily, she glared at him, growing more infuriated as his expression softened, a sad smile curling his lips. She returned to her unpacking with a growl, beginning to place objects around the quarters in order to further the illusion that she was intending to stay. It would not buy her much time, but every second counted when fleeing the Tal Shiar.

Training and instinct kicked in when the hand came down on her shoulder. Before she was fully aware, she had Malek’s arm behind him, collapsing him down to his knees with her other hand fisted in his hair, a finger’s width from having impacted the corner of the shelving unit she had just placed a vase upon. Despite his precarious situation, she could see and feel that he was completely relaxed: he had known exactly what he was doing.

“And this is why you have a chance at surviving,” he said quietly, only slight muffled from the positioning of his body. As the tension in Ver’urai’s grips relaxed slightly, he turned his head just enough to be able to see her out of the corner of his eye. “You are the best we have. Make sure your choice to do this is a choice to live rather than a surrender.” He could not stop a deep inhale when she released him fully, slowly bringing his arm around from the painful angle he’d been locked in nearly instantaneously.

“One of us has to choose to live,” she scoffed, returning to her task. “I always knew you were an idiot, but sneaking up on me of all people? When I’m angry? You must have a death wish.” Malek chuckled in response. She listened as he stood, steps leading away from her toward the door. He paused. So did she.

“Be free, Ver’urai. I only hope others can do the same.” The door opened, closed again. She took a moment to acknowledge the chapter that had just closed in her life. With a nod of her head, she continued her decorating, mentally preparing for what would easily be her most dangerous undertaking. If for no reason other than beyond escaping the city and going into hiding, she had no idea what to do next.

She only knew that she had to do something.

|||

“What’d I miss?” Rios whispered to Agnes, settled comfortably in his arms. He had arrived a few minutes before Elnor’s pause, having enough time to situate himself quietly in an effort not to be a disturbance.

“Apparently Ver’urai decides getting the hell out is a better option than joining the Zhat Vash,” Agnes whispers in response. A shiver coursed through her before she continued. “She sounds feisty enough to have survived the Admonition, but I’m glad she didn’t have to.”

“Where’s Seven?” Soji asked, leaning over and handing a coffee to Rios. There was a grunted thanks in response before he took a drink.

“She’s taking her turn to drive,” he responded, thankful in advance for the caffeine. “We had to sort a hodge-podge of transport crates, all different sizes. There is exactly enough storage space for the materials we’re shipping, but if they aren’t arranged just so, they won’t fit. Goddamn puzzle for some reason,” he muttered before taking another drink. “Seven offered to man the conn, said she’d take a few minutes to go plot out how everything needs to be placed. ‘Borg enhancements have their moments,’ she said.” Soji and Anges chuckled slightly at that, shifting attention at the sound of Elnor clearing his throat.

|||

After two days, Ver’urai’s nerves began to set in. There was a constant sense that they were just behind her, if she stopped or slowed for even the briefest of moments it would all end, and likely not quickly. Deserters were not greeted with mercy. She was good, and she knew it; which was why it had taken two full days for her to start worrying. Many wouldn’t have lasted two hours, particularly if she had been given the task of tracking them down.

But she was not invulnerable. It was only a matter of time was the mantra, in order to keep her alert. Sleep was sparse, nourishment consumed on the move and in small portions, movement near constant. She would need to leave the planet as soon as possible, but first she had to find a way to do so without attracting attention. No favor could be called in, as no one could owe _anyone_ enough to risk defying the Tal Shiar. Anyone who was willing to do so was too big a fool to be of use. After all, wasn’t that why she had sent Malek away?

After three days, she felt the edgings of paranoia, even beyond what was expected of a good Tal Shiar agent. Twelve days, she was not sleeping. Twenty-seven, she could admit that perhaps she simply was that skilled. Not that the fact afforded her any rest or relaxation: that would lead to mistakes, and opportunities to be caught. It _did_ allow for her to allot more time and energy into planning her departure from the planet. It felt too easy when she found herself in a shipping container she’d managed to sneak into, being loaded onto a freight ship nearly forty days past her “invitation” to depart with Laevha.

And yet here she was, 89 days later, on a smaller world in a system several days’ travel away. She had remained vigilant, both in her paranoia and her training. She had expected conflict. She had expected struggle. She had expected a harsh and difficult way of living, focused on survival and evasion, and yet fulfilling in the freedom it offered to operate how she chose with little concern for consequences from anything other than nature. What she hadn’t expected was to be viewed as anything other than a traitor to all Romulan kind.

After thorough scouting, she had slowly begun to allow interaction with smaller village. It was a far more agrarian composition for a Romulan settlement, insignificant enough in the grand scheme of empire dealings to allow her to feel some degree of breathing room in terms of suspecting Tal Shiar presence. The chatter she had picked up regarding an upcoming trade market gave her the opening she needed to establish her presence, take the next step in determining what her course of action should be.

When she first heard her name, her instincts had thankfully kicked in, allowing for no external reaction even as her heartrate skyrocketed. The immediate shushing that followed her name filled her with dread even as she smiled, bartering with a vendor as if nothing were amiss. A gentle laugh as she closed the deal, rapidly debating in her mind whether to approach the conversation or begin her self-extraction and prepare for another planetary departure.

“They say Malek was her partner, ages ago, and he’s the one spreading the tales.”

She froze ever so briefly, quickly adding a slight stumble to cover her tracks. Laughing at her own clumsiness as she waved off the vendor’s concern, she maneuvered herself closer to the conversation. Malek’s name was one thing, but “spreading tales” was a cause for concern, and more information was worth the risk of springing a trap.

“Man’s an idiot then, speaking of an insurrectionist in general, much less making her out to be some sort of hero of the people,” the male speaker spat cynically. Ver’urai groaned internally, wondering what could possibly have gotten into Malek to lead to such a foolhardy decision.

“Idiot or not, he’s a man of rank, and would know what he’s talking about,” chastised a woman. “He’s saying that she’s aiming to create a force that can withstand the Tal Shiar, one that doesn’t rely on shadow-play, torture, and nepotism to maintain order and control.” The man laughed.

“You must have a death wish, too, speaking against them like that. What’s it matter, anyway? Tal Shiar wouldn’t bother with a backwater like us.”

“That’s just it though.” The woman’s tone turned conspiratorial. “Apparently there are people shifting to the smaller colonies looking for her, to _join_ her.”

Her heart was now in her throat. _Join_ her? In _what_? Seeing how long she could last before dying a slow, torturous death for refusing the darkest and oldest cabal in Romulan history? She was also struggling to find ways to stay within ear shot of the conversation without making herself obvious, given that the pair were speaking practically in the middle of the relatively narrow thoroughfare.

“What could they possibly gain joining a Tal Shiar deserter of all things?” The woman shrugged.

“Malek apparently was very eloquent, discussing Ver’urai’s ideals, and even the woman herself. Made her sound near invincible, talked about her military prowess as a tactician and a fighter. Said that if someone that powerful felt that something was worth risking her life for, then maybe it was something worth pursuing. He was Tal Shiar, too, so he would know.”

“How do you know he was Tal Shiar?”

“They announced him as such when he was executed.”

|||

Elnor’s throat tightened as he suddenly thought of Hugh, now having a new understanding for the immense sorrow that must have shot through the Foundress at the news. He had never heard any Speaker discuss the grief she must have felt at that loss, the guilt she likely bore knowing that her actions – or inaction – led to the death of someone she cared deeply for. The realization began to settle in that the words were not necessary; the change in their voices that he always heard, but never recognized until now, told the story instead.

Silence settled for a bit as he processed, allowing the others to do so as well. He thought of Hugh’s last words to him, _thanking_ him despite the grisly end their brief encounter had led him to. In this moment of reflection, he felt he finally understood that final sentiment. Elnor closed his eyes, breathing a thanks in kind to Hugh for helping him to understand his own history, as well as to Malek for his bravery and sacrifice that allowed him to have the life he does now. That allowed him to have that moment with Hugh at all.

But his journey was not yet over.

Breathing in deeply, he lifted his head again to return his attention to the others, watching him intently. He could not hold back a slight smirk, never having seen all of them with such open, rapt expressions. There was a youthfulness added to all of them in their attentiveness, filling him with warmth and some measure of pride.

“Ver’urai mourned for several days before deciding it was time for her to make good on the message that Malek had given his life to share. When she was ready, she began to gather more information about these other colonies, these other dissidents who were searching for her. It was a slow process, but as one of the best former Tal Shiar agents, the likes of which have never been seen since, patience was a dance she was intimately familiar with. In time, she made contact with others and the beginnings of a plan were discussed. They agreed that they first needed somewhere to gather, safely and secretly, together.” Now Elnor beamed, a sense of deep pride filling him in the telling, in the claiming of this story as part of his own, that he had never experienced quite the same way in the hearing.

“With them, a haven was established for those who sought something new, something better. The seeds of hope each had carried in private for so long were beginning to fight their way through the soil, seeking light and life. As they came all together for the very first time, the Qowat Milat were born.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I make no promises that there will be _rapid_ updating by any means, I promise it won't be nearly three months for the next chapter lol
> 
> I do have another R/7 fic rolling around in my head, so that will likely come up in the next few days. Chapter 6 will be in the works quickly after that!
> 
> Many thanks to everyone who is coming along for this journey <3 As always, comments are greatly appreciated!


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